


A Strange Mix Of Both

by FeatherWriter



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gender Role Reversal, Post-Way of Kings, Romance, Secret Relationship, Shallarin, Teaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherWriter/pseuds/FeatherWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing compilation of small fics featuring Shallan Davar and Renarin Kholin and the blossoming relationship between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sapphire Broams

Shallan Davar knew she should probably be asleep, but she simply didn’t feel tired. She’d regret this in the morning, she was sure, especially when Jasnah had all kinds of new studies for her to be doing. Waking up in the day after she’d stayed up too late was always a horrible experience. But for now, she figured doing some personal studies for a bit would be nice.

She walked through the dark halls of the impromptu palace at the Shattered Plains, cupping the diamond broam in her hand so that its light illuminated her path. It wasn’t nearly as lavish as the Conclave, but for a structure built in a war camp, it was much nicer than what she’d been expecting. She and Jasnah stayed in rooms provided by the younger brother, King Elhokar.

Thankfully, there was a small library in the building and some of the writings there contained descriptions of the flora and fauna of the Shattered Plains. During the day, she’d taken to sketching new creatures and plants whenever she got free time and looking them up later in the library’s journals to see if other scholars had documented them. While she found records of some, there were many she believed had never been catalogued before. It was an exciting exercise and looking through the journals was a good way to wind down at the end of the day. Perhaps someday another young scholar would be studying _her_ journals to try to fall asleep.

She held the sphere up as she entered the small library rooms. The main room was filled with shelf upon shelf of scrolls, parchments, books, and journals. By now, Shallan knew right where the natural science journals were, and she pulled a new one off the shelf, tucking it under her arm with her sketchbook. Then she headed toward the back of the library. There was a small room with a desk there for studying and at this time of night, she was sure it would be empty.

However, as she pushed open the door, she was surprised to see that the room was occupied. As she opened the door, she could see that an even blue light lit the small room.

“I’m so sorry,” Shallan said quickly, moving to shut the door. Then she saw the blue uniform and froze.

Renarin Kholin spun as she entered, eyes wide. She started, for a moment thinking she had walked into the wrong room. Then she looked more closely. Open books and papers were spread across the room’s single table, sapphire spheres spread between them to illuminate the pages. Finally she noticed the guilt in his expression, lurking behind his surprise.

“It’s...” he stammered, sounding somewhat frantic. “This is not what it looks like!”

She blinked, trying to understand what she was seeing. “Were you… reading?”

She could see thoughts flickering behind his eyes, like he was searching for something to say that wouldn’t incriminate him. He opened his mouth a few times, but never managed to get the words out. Finally, he sighed, slumping a bit. “No, technically I wasn’t. I don’t actually know how to read. But… not for lack of trying.”

The immense sadness in his voice made her pause. Slowly, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “What exactly are you doing in here?”

The younger Kholin prince looked so terribly defeated, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. “It was foolish to think that no one would catch me. I just…” He turned back towards the desk. “I couldn’t help it. Ever since Aunt Navani came to the Shattered Plains, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the fabrials she makes and how they work. And the answers are here, but just out of reach. There’s so much knowledge here, but I can’t understand any of it. I thought maybe I could understand them from the diagrams, but I just can’t figure it out.”

She stepped closer and saw that many of the books contained neat drawings of various fabrials covered with notations. She didn’t know much about the art of making fabrials herself, but she knew that Brightness Navani was a renowned artefabrian. One sheet of paper caught her eye though. Off to one side was a single page of common glyphs with their names written in script beside them.

“What is this for?” She asked, gently picking it up with her freehand.

Renarin seemed to shrink even smaller in his chair, and she almost regretted asking. She hadn’t thought it possible for him to look more miserable than he had a moment ago. “It… I was…” he sighed, and his voice dropped to an ashamed mumble. “I thought if I could figure out how to read if I could translate the script. I know the names of these glyphs, so I know what the writing says. But I can’t even figure that out. I know what the words are supposed to say, but it’s all still just lines to me. It’s… it’s disgraceful, I know. I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

Shallan didn’t know what to say. The young prince looked absolutely wretched, and while the idea of a man learning to read outside the ardentia was shocking to her, she couldn’t help but admire his cleverness in trying to go about it. Reading the names of glyphs written out in regular script would be in excellent starting point for someone who only knew glyphs.

She thought for a long while, trying to figure out what to do. She thought about going to tell someone, but who would she tell? The son of a highprince was much higher ranked than she was, and if she was being honest, she could understand how he felt. She remembered her own immense thirst for knowledge when she was younger, and she’d had the opportunity to read and write and study. While men could be read to by women, scholarship was not a masculine art, and was hardly encouraged. She’d often wondered if men outside the ardentia even became curious about these things. It was almost… refreshing to find out that there was a man not so different from herself.

She finally spoke, her voice quiet. “I… I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t want me to.”

Renarin looked up sharply, shock crossing his face. “You won’t?”

She shook her head, still looking at the paper. “I mean, I’m a scholar. I can’t really blame you for being curious. Even if you aren’t female.”

Renarin’s whole posture relaxed as he sighed in relief. “I can’t believe it! You would really do that for me?”

“Actually,” Shallan said, drawing the word out as she considered her next words. “I was just thinking: if you’re trying to figure out how to read on your own… Well, you’re probably not going to get very far without help. So, what if I were to give you some assistance?” She could hardly believe she was suggesting this, but she knew all too well what it was like not to have access to the information she wanted. Not to mention, she had something even more drastic in mind.

Renarin’s mouth dropped open. “Are you… Are you saying you would teach me how to read?”

Before she could second-guess herself, she nodded. “If you can keep it a secret, I’ll help you.”

He stared at her, wonder and disbelief written across his face. “I… I don’t even know what to say. This is so… Thank you, so much. You’re… Shallan, right? Cousin Jasnah’s ward?”

Shallan nodded. The look of joy on the prince’s face made all of her worries about this plan seem to disappear. “I would like something in exchange though, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Anything!” Renarin said quickly. “At this point, I’d consider giving you my Shardplate if I thought I could get away with it!”

Shallan laughed nervously. “Nothing so extravagant as that.” She paused, not wanting to continue. Two sides of her mind were at war with one another. The more rational part of her brain was shocked that she was considering this. _What do you think you’re doing, even considering this? What would your brothers think if they knew what you were considering?_

But the other, more curious side of her was stronger. The tiny voice that said: _When are you ever going to get a chance like this again? You know he’ll say yes, and even if he doesn’t, he can’t judge you for asking. Not after what he’s already asked of you._

Renarin cocked his head to the side, wondering why she had paused. There was something endearingly innocent about the gesture. “Brightness Shallan? What is it that you want?”

She bit her lip. _Just ask!_ “In return for helping you learn one of the feminine arts, well… it seems only fair that you teach me one of the masculine arts!” The words came out in a rush, and she felt herself blushing at the impropriety of the statement. Renarin blinked, but didn’t look terribly shocked.

She looked down at her feet, continuing at a more normal talking speed. “I would like to learn how to use a sword.”

Renarin gave a small, understanding nod. Then he looked down. “I’m not certain I would be the best teacher for that. I’m not really a very good swordsman.”

“Yes, but you’ve been trained, haven’t you?” Shallan said, encouraged by the fact that he hadn’t shot her down immediately. “And honestly, I know very little about fabrials and engineering, so beyond the basics of reading and writing, I don’t think I would be much help to you.”

He paused, considering this. “I have been trained, yes. I know the stances and forms, though I’m not very good at them. If that’s your request, then it would be my honor to teach you what I know.”

Shallan smiled, not quite able to believe that he’d agreed. “This way, we’ll both have secrets, because we’re helping each other. You don’t have to worry that I’ll tell anyone that you’re learning to read, because if I did, you could tell them that I’m learning sword stances. No one will know!”

 _And more importantly,_ she thought, _I’ll finally know how to use this cursed thing I carry. If I’m forced to bear it, then I might as well learn how to defend myself using it, at least._

Renarin thought about that for a moment, then met her eyes again, his face splitting in a grin. “I believe I can manage that, Brightness Shallan.”

She found herself smiling back. There was something about his “Please,” she said. “We’re co-conspirators now. You can simply call me Shallan.”

“I think I can manage that, Shallan,” he said, extending a hand to shake. “It is only fitting then that I return the favor. Call me Renarin, please. We have a deal then?”

She shook his hand firmly. His hands were strong, but softer than she’d expected. “We have a deal, Renarin,” she said.

They shook and the deal was sealed. _I’ve either just made the best or worst decision of my life,_ Shallan thought. _And Almighty preserve me, but I have no idea which._ And from the look on Renarin’s face, he seemed to be thinking the same thing. She wasn’t sure whether that was reassuring or terrifying.

A strange mix of both, she finally decided. 

 

 

 


	2. Lines and Arches

“I think these glyphs are probably the best way to start,” Shallan said, carefully looking at the sheet of paper. “This really is a clever way to start learning how to read. I don’t think I could have thought of it, to be honest.”

Renarin had pulled a chair in from the other room, but there wasn’t quite enough space at the small desk for both of them. He tried his best to keep his knees from bumping hers under the table, but every few moments, one of them would move and jostle the other.  They were making the best of it though.

And he thought he could suffer through any awkward arrangement if it meant learning how to read. He could just imagine studying topics on his own, not having to worry about a reader judging him for the books he wanted to hear or the questions he wanted to ask. He knew what people would think if word started going around that he was looking into fabrials and engineering. They already thought of him as sickly and weak, not a fit son of a Highprince. Adolin was a son the family could be proud of; Renarin was the son everyone simply expected to fail. He couldn’t let people find out about his studying. He wasn’t sure he could cope with being even more of a disappointment to his family.

 _Oh, and how do you think people would react to finding out you’re learning how to read, Renarin?_ A part of his mind sneered. He tried to shove that thought down. It didn’t work very well.

Shallan tapped the page, bringing Renarin back into the moment. “So, you _can_ read glyphs, correct? You know what these are called?”

He looked closely, listing them down from the top. “Khokh and linil are at the top of course, and the ones below that are taral and morom.”

Shallan nodded. “Here, let me get another piece of paper. It’ll be easier to show you that way.” She pulled out one of the notebooks she’d brought in and started flipping pages to find a blank one. He didn’t mean to spy, but he couldn’t help but notice that there were drawings throughout the book. He almost asked her about them, but decided it was none of his business.

She unbound one of the pages, laying it flat on the desk, then pulled out one of her pens and began to write. “Let’s start with just one word, okay?” She made a few quick strokes on the page then held it up for him to see. “Do you recognize this one?”

He looked between the pointed lines of her word and the page of glyphs, trying to match the unknown symbols up. “That looks like the name beside khokh _,_ ” he said. “Does that say khokh _?”_

Shallan smiled, nodding. “Yes, it does! Now, here’s what the difference is between glyphs and writing. Glyphs are like pictures, right? You can look at them and see what they mean from the way they look.”

“Right, for the most part,” Renarin said. “Glyphs make sense. But writing is just these same, jagged, nonsense symbols over and over. How do they mean anything?”

“Writing doesn’t try to imitate the meanings of the words, Renarin,” she said. “It represents the sounds. Each symbol is a letter, representing a single sound, and when you string them together, you can write the word out by the way one would say it.”

Renarin looked between the page and Shallan, blinking a few times in confusion. In his years of wondering about writing, he’d never thought of something like that. “Wait, what?”

She giggled at his bewildered expression. “Stay with me, okay? It’s not as strange as it seems.” As he watched, she broke the word up into smaller symbols without the long line running all the way through them. “These are the three letters we use to spell out the word khokh _._ See how the first one and last one are the same? That’s the symbol for the hard K, that _kh_ sound. The letter in the middle is the ‘O’ and when you say all three of them together, you get the glyph name: khokh _._ ”

She glanced up from the paper at him to see if he was following. “Is this making sense?”

Renarin nodded slowly. “I think I’m following. Can you do another one?”

She paused for a second, thinking. “Let me do a few that aren’t glyph names, give you a few more letters to work with. Not to mention, glyph names are always symmetrical, so the letters repeat themselves. Regular words don’t usually do that.” Her hand fluttered across the page, and Renarin watched as the sweeping lines and arches flowed from her pen almost like magic. In heartbeats, she’d written three more words beneath _khokh_.

“This is my name,” she said pointing to the first. “It has five letters:  SH, A, two L’s, another A, and an N.” She drew small brackets underneath each letter as she said its name. “This one is your family name, Kholin. It starts the same way as the _khokh_ glyph of course, with the K for the _kh_ and the O. Then it has an L, just like in the middle of my name, an I, and then an N. See how the L and N in ‘Kholin’ and ‘Shallan’ line up? They’re the same sounds, so I use the same symbols.”

“And the last one?” Renarin asked. It was a bit longer than the other two.

Shallan smiled. “That’s your name, Renarin.”

He leaned in, staring at those small lines and swoops in wonder. “Really?”

She nodded, starting to draw brackets under the letters again. “First an R, then an E, N, A, another R, an I, and another N. All three of these words finish with the letter N, and your name has one in the middle too. It also has two R’s, one at the beginning and one in the middle. That R is the same letter that begins and finishes the word ‘Roshar’ and it’s the letter that’s at the end of lots of place names like ‘Kholinar’ and ‘Alethkar’.”

Renarin looked at it closely, slowly saying his name as his eyes traced the lines, trying to match the sounds to the letters. He loved the way that Shallan had explained that his name shared letters with so many interesting words. He felt a connection to them, as though there was a togetherness in their shared components. He’d never thought of words in terms of _how_ they were said before, and learning how to read was making him think all of these things for the first time. It was as though a whole new way of thinking about language had opened up, and every word he said or heard seemed completely different now. They were _more_ somehow, and he relished this new aspect to words that he’d never known about.

For a small while, he didn’t say anything, just staring at that word: his name. Finally he looked up at Shallan, who was watching him with an amused expression. “Shallan,” he asked, “how many letters are there?”

“In the Alethi alphabet, there’s twenty-five,” she said. “Five groups with five letters each. I think there are other writing systems on Roshar that use more or fewer. The Horneater language doesn’t have as many sounds, so they have fewer letters. I’m fairly sure that some of the western nations have many more letters than Alethi does.”

“Can you show me all of them?” He asked eagerly.

She tapped her face thoughtfully, a small drop of ink on her finger leaving a smudge on her cheek. “The problem will be having you remember what each of them is. I could say what sound each letter makes as I write them, but how are you going to remember all of them?” She frowned, thinking for a while. Renarin couldn’t think of a good answer either. Suddenly, her face lit up. “Wait, I have an idea!”

She opened her notebook again, taking out a clean sheet of paper. She drew five lines down the middle of the page with a gap between each and quickly began writing letters along them. Renarin could see that these all had a similar shape, and simply changed size or had a marking after them. She wrote five letters on the first line, then at the gap she began writing five more with a different shape. When she lifted her pen, there were five groups of five letters, just as she’d said.

“This is the whole alphabet, from beginning to end.” She blew lightly across the page to try to dry the ink. “Now, when I learned how to read, my tutor just quizzed me and told me all the sounds over and over, but you can’t very well do that alone, and if I have to teach you that way, we’ll be here forever.”

Renarin frowned. “What will we do then?”

Shallan checked that the ink was completely dry before picking up her pen again. Then she began drawing above the first symbol, a simple picture of a man wearing a crown. Renarin thought it looked a bit like Elhokar. Then she moved on to the next letter, another little picture appearing above that one as well. He watched as she worked her way through the whole alphabet, finishing with a small capped jar. It took some time, but not as much as Renarin would have expected for such precise drawings.

When she finished, she held it up proudly for him to see. “There! Every letter has a picture that starts with that letter.” She went through each one, so he’d know exactly what they were, though they were such good drawings that he was able to figure out almost all of them. All twenty-five were there, from the E – which was, in fact Elhokar! - to the J, symbolized by a jar of jam. Something flickered behind Shallan’s eyes when she explained that picture, though what, Renarin couldn’t guess. Embarassment? Fondness?

“Now, just study these. Whatever sound the picture starts with, that’s the sound that letter makes. This can be your guide. If you practice, you’ll have it in no time, I’m sure! Who knows, if you really study well, you might even be reading by the end of the week.”

Renarin took the paper carefully, almost afraid to touch it for fear of crumpling the paper or smearing the ink. It was beautiful, and so incredibly valuable. “I… Shallan, thank you. This is more than I could have hoped for. I always thought learning to read would be a long shot; something I could never figure out for real. Now, with this, with you helping me, I’m really starting to think I can do this. And… that’s both terrifying and awe inspiring.”

He didn’t realize there were tears in his eyes until she reached forward, wiping his cheek with the fabric on her safehand sleeve. “Careful,” she said quietly. “If you get the ink wet it’ll smear. You have to keep it away from water.”

His eyes widened at her touch, and she froze realizing what she was doing. She quickly pulled her hand away, turning away to try to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.

Renarin could feel his own face growing red as well. He’d never had never had a girl touch his face, and certainly not with her safehand. _You’re letting your imagination get away with you, Renarin,_ he told himself sternly. _She didn’t mean anything by it. She just wasn’t thinking. See, she’s embarrassed because she knows she gave you the wrong idea._

“I think…” Shallan said, her voice touched with a slight tremor. “I think I should probably get to bed. There’s not much more that I can teach you tonight. And your dear cousin will have plenty of work for me to do tomorrow.” She stood and began gathering her books.

Renarin found his voice as she finally started for the door. “Shallan?”

She stopped and turned back to look at him.

“I’ll repay you for this. I swear it. I’ll find somewhere for us to practice and I’ll teach you everything I know about fighting with a sword. You have my word.”

She smiled again, and he was surprised at how much that expression made everything seem right. “I shall look forward to it, Renarin. I’ll see you very soon.”

He nodded, and then, before he could think better of it, added: “And I shall look forward to that.”

She laughed, seeming surprised at the statement. “Goodnight, Renarin.” With that, she turned and left.

When she was gone, Renarin turned back to the desk, his arms propped on the top and his head dropping into his hands. “Oh Stormfather, why did I say that?” he muttered. “I should have known she’d laugh at me. I bet Adolin never has girls laugh at him when he says things like that.”

He sat up, moving his arms so he could see, looking down at the alphabet page. _Perhaps letters aren’t the only thing I need to practice. Talking to women is a skill I sorely need as well. Maybe I’ll learn to do that as well. Almighty save me from making a fool of myself as I try._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that Shallan and Renarin are using a different alphabet than the English alphabet. You can find diagrams and explanations of Alethi Script here: http://stormlightarchive.wikia.com/wiki/Alethi_Script


	3. Keeping a Pet Skyeel

Shallan tapped the counter idly as she waited. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be used to having guilty secrets. She recognized the sensation now. It was like a knife hovering between her shoulder blades – unable to be seen, but always there. Able to cut her to the quick at any moment. She’d felt it for months after her father had died, and it had come upon her again after stealing Jasnah’s soulcaster. Now it was back once more. Despite her familiarity with guilt, she was far from comfortable with it.

She felt as though everyone was watching her, and at any moment someone might jump out and shout at her: “You’re a woman trying to learn to fight! You’re teaching a highprince’s son how to read!” But none such accusations came. The people she’d passed on the dusty street had minded their own business. Despite her feeling that her thoughts were written across her face for all to see, no one seemed to be able to read them.

“Brightness?” The tailor asked again, pulling Shallan after her thoughts. “Is there something I can help you with?” She blinked, coming back to the moment. She was in one of the tailors’ shops in the war camp marketplace. She’d been waiting for him to finish helping someone else but in her musing, she hadn’t seen the other customer leave.

“Oh, yes please,” she said. “I am looking for a gift for a friend of mine. Something simple, just as a small surprise. A blouse I think, rather than a full dress.”

The tailor smiled kindly, nodding. “Did you have any particular styles in mind?”

Shallan nodded. “A simple cut, though of good fabric. And, an open sleeve and glove for the safehand, rather than a full sleeve. My friend is a darkeyed woman, though of a high nahn you see, so it would need to be something functional. Something that she can work in and won’t restrict her movement.” She hoped her story sounded natural enough, though she had probably been speaking too quickly. Lying had never come very naturally to her, even on minor things like this.

If the tailor doubted the nature of her request though, he showed no sign of it. “I believe I have some blouses that will be to your liking, Brightness. If you’ll allow me a moment I can fetch some samples from the back.”

He moved to leave, then paused as if remembering something. “Would you happen to know your friend’s measurements? If so, I can find her a suitable choice which will not require adjustments.” Shallan nodded and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her bag. She’d expected him to ask for them. While the man would think that Shallan had gotten the numbers from her friend’s usual tailor, the measurements were her own.

 He took the paper, then made a snapping motion with his hand. A young girl that Shallan hadn’t even seen hopped up from a stool in the corner, tucking a small book under her arm as she walked. She followed close at the tailor’s heels, starting to read off the numbers to him as the two ducked underneath the curtain which separated the front of the store from the back.

Shallan stood patiently, waiting for him to return. Before he did, though, someone else entered the shop.  She turned to see who it was, and for a moment she mistook the newcomer for Renarin. The blue Kholin uniform, the blond hair in his hair, and even the shape of his face was familiar. But there was a difference in the way he carried himself, a confidence and strength in his expression and bearing, and at second glance the similarities in features were nothing more than familial.  _Adolin. Renarin’s older brother._

“Hello?” Adolin called, striding between the racks of fabrics.

Shallan ducked her head respectfully as he approached. He  _was_  higher ranked than her, after all, as son of a Highprince. “He’s in the back at the moment, sir. I’m sure he’ll be back out soon, though.”

Adolin nodded distractedly, looking toward the back of the store. He leaned forward, resting his arms against the counter. After a moment, he frowned, turning back to her. “Wait a moment, I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

“I believe we met briefly when I first arrived,” she said. “My name is Shallan Davar. I’m—”

“—Jasnah’s ward, that’s right,” he finished for her, nodding. “I remember you now. I’m embarrassed to have forgotten, actually.”

“I’m sure you have more important things to concern you than keeping track of every new arrival to the warcamps.”

“You’re my cousin’s ward,” he said, waving away her excuse for him. “If I can’t remember the name of someone who’s practically family, especially when that someone should be as memorable as you are, then there’s something wrong with my priorities.” Shallan blinked at the comment, but before she could respond, Adolin followed up with another question. “How are you liking the Shattered Plains, Miss Davar? You and Jasnah were down in… Kharbranth before this, right?”

She nodded. “The Plains are beautiful. Such a unique landscape. I’d read about them once, but you can’t really imagine somewhere like this until you’ve been here. The Shattered Plains is certainly a change of pace from the city. Sometimes in a shop like this I can almost forget that this is an army, but when the horns sound it’s a different story. And, of course, the palace library is not nearly as extensive as the Palanaeum was.”  _Not that there aren’t interesting things to be found in it, especially late at night…_

“You shouldn’t let Jasnah keep you locked up in that stuffy library all day,” he said. “You ought to come to one of the dueling matches when you get free time.”

She raised her hand to her chest in feigned shock. “Free time? I don’t believe Jasnah would ever stand to hear of such a blasphemous concept.” Even as the words left her mouth, she winced, realizing what she’d said. “Er… Sorry. Perhaps quips about blasphemy aren’t the best choice when talking about Jasnah.”

Adolin shrugged, though she suspected he might be playing it off for her sake. “Don’t worry about it. Jasnah certainly isn’t ashamed of her views, so I don’t see that the rest of us need to tiptoe around them.”

“Still,” Shallan said, glancing away. “It wasn’t terribly appropriate.”

“Neither are most of Wit’s jokes,” Adolin said with a grin, “and he’s hilarious. Really, there’s no need to feel bad. I thought what you said was clever.”

“In my experience,” she said with a slight grimace, “having a witty tongue is a bit like trying to keep a pet skyeel. Impressive at first and entertaining to those one meets, but difficult to keep in line and with a tendency to bite when not watched carefully enough.”

Adolin laughed at that. “Perhaps you’re right. You remind me a bit of Wit, actually. He makes comments like that all the time. I wouldn’t mind overhearing a conversation between the two of you, someday. If he ever decides to turn up again, that is.”

She was about to respond when the tailor returned, carrying a few folded bundles of cloth in his arms. His eyes went wide when he saw Adolin standing at the counter, and he hurried over, setting the clothes down. “Prince Adolin!” he said hurriedly, “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. I was in the back and did not hear you enter!”

Adolin held up a hand, cutting off the man’s continued apologies. “Please, it’s no issue. Finish seeing to Miss Davar first. She was before me.” The tailor looked as though he was going to protest, but Adolin didn’t give him the chance. “I insist.”

Still looking slightly worried that he might offend such an important customer, the tailor turned back to Shallan, laying out three blouses with matching gloves. After looking over them and inspecting the styles, she decided on a blue one with simple white embroidery around the sleeves and collar. It looked functional enough for her purpose, and the glove seemed like it would be a good fit. It had been a long time since she had worn anything with a glove instead of a full sleeve though. That alone almost made her hesitant enough to give up right there. Before she could talk herself out of the whole idea, she handed over her spheres and the tailor wrapped the blouse in paper for her, tied up with a string.

She thanked the man for his time, moving to leave. Adolin spoke up again as she reached the door. “I am serious about not letting Jasnah keep you cooped up all day, Miss Davar. You should come to a duel; meet some people around here. I could introduce you around.”

She turned back, holding her parcel with her freehand. “Perhaps I will. Seeing a duel would certainly be interesting. It sounds like it might be fun.” She paused, wondering if she should stop there. “May I give you a word of advice though, Prince Adolin?”

 “I suppose,” he said, frowning slightly. “What about?”

“I’m sure you did not mean it this way, but it might be best if you were to avoid inviting women you just met to social gatherings while courting. I wouldn’t want you to give Lady Morakotha the wrong idea.”

Adolin started, blinking as he realized what she meant. “Stormfather, I didn’t mean– I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know you weren’t,” Shallan said, trying not to laugh at his flustered reaction. “Just something to keep in mind. I don’t want to cause any trouble, is all. And feel free to call me Shallan, if you would like. Like you said, we’re ‘almost family,’ right?” She ducked out the door before he could respond, leaving the shop and the slightly embarrassed prince behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit Note: Part of the this chapter was inspired by this wonderful picture by Botanica Xu: http://botanicaxu.tumblr.com/post/59574221345/quite-curious-what-will-happen-when-these-four


	4. A Smile To Calm A Highstorm

A cool breeze blew across the top of the empty lookout tower, snapping the tails of Renarin’s uniform coat as it passed. Back when Elhokar’s palace had first been constructed there had been worries of assaults on the warcamps, and the palace had been given defensive fortifications. Once, there would have been guards posted up here to keep watch for a possible attack from the Parshendi. But it had been years since anyone had worried about an attack on the camps, and now the scouts stayed out on the Plains. The tops of the king’s watchtowers lay abandoned all day.

All except for one, which was this afternoon occupied by the youngest Kholin prince as he waited for Shallan to arrive.

Renarin paced back and forth, nervously tapping the wooden practice sword against the floor as he went. What did he think he was doing? Trying to teach someone else how to use a sword, and a woman at that! He was barely passable at fighting, even with having spent the last few months training again. How could he possibly hope to teach someone else a skill he himself had never been able to learn?

A knock against the door to the staircase made him turn. A muffled female voice called, “Renarin?” The door creaked open slightly and Shallan poked her head around the corner, a braid of bright red hair swinging into view. She smiled when she saw him, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping out into the open space of the tower. She wore a long cloak of thin fabric, which covered her entire body. As soon as she was outside and certain they were alone, she undid the tie, slipping the garment off her shoulders.

His breath caught as he saw what she was wearing beneath. A well-tailored blue blouse, its color almost deep enough to be considered Kholin blue, fit closely over her upper half. Beneath it, a pair of dark brown women’s riding pants were tucked into tall boots made of soft leather. Both of the blouse’s sleeves stopped at the wrist, and a cream colored glove covered her safehand.

He tried not to stare or make a fool of himself. He _had_ seen women wearing only a glove before of course, but usually only darkeyes or young girls. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look at something other than her safehand and sent a quick prayer to the Almighty that he wasn’t blushing. _What,_ he silently scolded himself for his foolishness. _Was I expecting her to learn to use a sword with a full sleeve and a skirt?_ _I should have known that she would have an outfit like that!_

She misunderstood his hesitation. “Is this okay?” she asked, gesturing to her clothes. “I wasn’t exactly sure what would be best to wear.” She twisted, looking over her shoulder at the back of the outfit, as if trying to inspect it from all angles. Renarin failed to ignore how the movement flattered her backside. _Oh, Stormfather._ If he wasn’t blushing before he certainly was now.

He looked away quickly, suddenly very interested in inspecting the practice sword. “No, it’s….” he stammered. “You look, uh….”

She frowned, eyebrows drawing together. “It’s not okay?”

“No, no!” he said quickly. “That’s not what I… I mean, it’s fine! It looks, er… You look good.”

“Oh,” she said, a small blush of her own lighting her cheeks. She looked down, seeming a little bit embarrassed herself. “Thank you.”

_Stormfather, we’re both hopeless. How did we ever think this would be a good idea?_ Trying to change the subject quickly, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “If it’s okay for me to ask, where _did_ you get those clothes?”

A mischievous light flashed in her eyes, and she grinned. “It would not be appropriate for a lady to reveal the secrets of her trade, Renarin. Would it?”

He paused, tipping his head. “But… Shallan, isn’t that what we’re already doing? I mean, you revealing women’s secrets to me, in exchange for me teaching you the sword?”

She blinked, then broke into a laugh. “I think you’ve got me there, actually. The answer is rather mundane than you might expect, though. I bought it in a tailor’s shop, like all of my other clothes. I simply told the shopkeeper that it was for a friend, rather than myself.” She shrugged casually, like a small apology for the explanation being simple instead of more entertaining. Then she perked up, remembering something. “Oh, and I met your brother there while I was waiting. I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him before this, actually.”

“You talked to Adolin?” Renarin asked, surprised. “What did he say?”

She laughed again, walking over to look out over the short wall at the edge of the tower. “He tried to flirt with me actually.”

Renarin’s reaction was as immediate as it was surprising to him: _jealousy_.He was suddenly glad that Shallan’s back was to him as she looked out over the Plains. He didn’t want her to see his response to that, especially because he didn’t understand it himself. He had always looked up to his older brother, and often wished he could be more like him. He’d never felt like this about something Adolin had done. He almost felt a sense of hurt or betrayal, as though Adolin had done something to wrong him.

_That doesn’t even make sense,_ he tried to tell himself. _Why does it bother me? Adolin always flirts with the girls he talks to. I’m being foolish. It’s not like he was trying to steal her from me or anything. Stormfather, she’s not even_ mine _to steal. What is wrong with me?_ He shook his head, trying to clear the treacherous thoughts away.

 “He invited me to watch one of his duels when I got some free time,” Shallan continued, unaware of the effect her words had had on him. “I don’t think he meant anything by it. In fact, I think it may just be that he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.”

“What?” Renarin started, pulled from his thoughts by surprise. “Adolin’s always talking to girls, though!”

He could almost hear the small smile in her voice as she responded. “Well, I can certainly believe that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’s very good at it. Your brother knows how to flirt with girls, but I’m not sure that he knows how to talk to them _without_ doing so. I don’t think he even realized he _was_ flirting with me until I mentioned it.”

He walked over to stand beside her at the wall as she continued to talk, her voice growing wistful. “If I’m being honest,” she said, “he reminded me a little of someone I knew back in Kharbranth, though Adolin seems much kinder than… well I won’t get into that. They just, both had that same air about them, like they were saying things that they thought I would like to hear, rather than saying what they were actually thinking. I mean, it’s nice to be flattered, of course, but sometimes I’d prefer to have a conversation where I don’t have to worry that every comment and action is part of an attempt to win my affections.”

She paused, looking over at him with a small warm smile. A smile like that could calm a highstorm, he thought. It just seemed to put everything right. “It’s rather nice,” she said, “being able to talk to someone like you, Renarin. Someone who is open and honest about what they’re saying and what they feel. Having a conversation where I am spoken to like a person rather than a prize to be won. It’s a refreshing change.”

“I….” He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He’d never even considered that someone might prefer his conversation to Adolin’s. It was strange for him to think about. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she said, smiling brightly again. She walked over to where the other wooden practice sword rested, picking it up and holding it out before her, as though testing it. He followed her, still carrying his own sword. “I do think it might be a good idea, though.”

He tipped his head, not following her train of thought. “What might be?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a laugh. “Attending a dueling match, I mean. Like Adolin suggested. If I’m going to learn how to do this, I should study others who are already good at it, shouldn’t I? I think it could be very enlightening to see how different duelists fight and watch them in action.” She looked up from the sword, meeting his eyes. “You and I could go together, Renarin. You could sit with me help explain what exactly is going on so that I could understand it better. If that’s okay for me to ask, that is.”

He blinked, then nodded quickly. “I think that’s a good idea! I mean, I’ll try my best to explain, if you’d like me to.”

“I’d like it very much,” she said. “Any help you can give me would be greatly appreciated. I think there’s a match in a few days. I’ll ask Jasnah if she would let me attend.” She paused, grinning. “We may have to thank Adolin for giving us such a wonderful idea. Though we should probably leave out the specifics, of course.”

Renarin smiled as well, laughing a bit. “That would probably be best.”

“So,” she said, holding up the practice sword. “Now that I’ve distracted us for a while, perhaps I should let you get started, instead of distracting you. Are you ready for us begin?”

He nodded, moving across the space. “Now, the first thing you have to get correct is the grip,” he said. He tucked his own sword under his arm, then reached forward to adjust her hands. He tried to ignore the way his heart seemed to flutter when his fingers brushed against the cream colored glove on her safehand. He could have summoned a Shardblade in the blink of an eye if he’d had one.

“You want your hands to line up,” he said, thankful that his voice seemed to reveal none of his nervousness, “so that your hold will be steady. Every instructor I’ve had started with this, because if you don’t get it right, you’ll never be able to master the rest….”

 


	5. Overestimation

They agreed to meet later that night in the library, so that Shallan could continue with her half of the instruction. Her first day of sword training had been very interesting. Renarin had kept everything simple, mostly focusing on her posture and correctly holding the sword. He was a better teacher than he thought he was, his words always calm and his instructions clear. Sometimes he would demonstrate the correct technique, trying to see if she could copy him. She smiled as she thought of the kindness in the way he had corrected her form, his hands always gentle and the slightest bit hesitant, as if afraid he would do something wrong by touching her. She had quickly found herself trusting him and their two hours of training had passed almost too quickly for her liking.

As she entered the library, she readjusted her books under her arm. She was wearing an actual dress once more, with a full sleeve. For the first time, it almost felt restrictive after the relative freedom of movement she’d had with only a glove. The room was deserted at this time of night, for which she was grateful. If there had been anyone else in here, she was fairly sure Renarin wouldn’t have stayed. She made her way to the small study room at the back, where they’d had their only other library encounter, a week before. It had made sense for them to agree to meet there again; it was secluded and quiet, and there was little chance that they would be discovered.

She knocked quietly on the door, softly calling, “Renarin? It’s me, Shallan.”

“I’m in here,” came his muffled response.

She pushed the door open, slipping inside. The room was lit with a muted blue light, from a goblet of mixed sapphire and diamond spheres. Renarin had already pulled in another chair for her, and he quickly made room for her on the small table. She placed her books in a neat stack, and sat down. She was about to ask him what he was working on when she noticed some of the papers on his side; regular blank paper, filled with lines of letters and short words.  She took one carefully, inspecting it. The lines were somewhat shaky, the strokes belying an unpracticed hand, but there was a careful precision to each attempt, showing that each had been drawn with care and focused attention.

She held up the sheet. “Did you write this?”

He looked down, seeming embarrassed. “They’re not very good, I know. But I wanted to try.”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, for someone with no instruction at all, these are amazing. You figured out how to write these on your own in a week?”

“I was just trying to copy the symbols I was seeing,” he said. “I thought learning to write them might help me memorize them. I still can’t remember which is which without looking at your reference sheet.”

She rummaged in her bag, pulling out a new blank sheet and handing it to him. “Would you show me some letters? I’d like to see your technique.”

He nodded. He opened one of the books on the table, arranging the paper and ink well. As he moved to pick up a brushpen, Shallan spoke up.

“Wait,” she said, “Renarin, you’re holding the pen in the wrong hand. That’s your left hand.”

He frowned. “Well, I tried using the other hand like you did, but this felt more comfortable. This is the way I’ve been doing it all week.”

She shook her head. “But you can’t write with your left hand, that’s your safe–” She cut off, realizing what she was saying. “Though… That’s not true. You’re not female. You don’t have a safehand or a freehand.” She paused, trying to think through the implications of that. “Hmm, maybe you _could_ write left-handedly.”

Renarin shrugged slightly. “I usually use my left hand to do things. I never really thought about it before now. The way I see it, in the grand scheme of things, I’m already learning how to write and read. After something like that, which hand I use to do so seems like it might not make much of a difference.”

“I suppose. It makes me wonder, though. Are there male ardents who write with their left hands? I could have asked back in Kharbranth but I never even thought about it….” She frowned, trailing off. Thinking about Kabsal tended to trouble her, and she found him drifting into her thoughts more and more often lately. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Renarin held up the brushpen a bit, pulling her back to the moment. “Would you still like to see how I’ve been doing this?”

“I would love to,” she said. She pulled her chair a little bit closer, so that she could watch him work. He held the brushpen gently, carefully dipping it into the ink and making the stroke for the guideline. He made the lines slowly, checking the book he was copying to make sure he was drawing the right letters.

When he finished the word, he pulled his hand away carefully, looking to her for feedback. “How was that? Did I at least spell my own name correctly?”

“It looks correct to me,” she said with a smile. “I should ask Jasnah sometime how it’s officially spelled, but I’m fairly certain that’s it. Do you mind if I give you a few tips on penmanship?”

“Actually,” he said seriously, meeting her eyes over the rims of his spectacles. “I was hoping I could stumble along on my own with no help, probably making dozens of errors I don’t even know about for a little while longer instead, if that’s all right with you.”

His expression and tone were so earnest, it took her a moment to realize he was joking. She laughed, and the sound of it made him finally break character as well. His serious demeanor dissolved into a small smile at first, and then he started to laugh as well. It was a warm, quiet sort laughter, and Shallan could have sworn that the sound of it made the spheres glow just the smallest bit brighter.

“Okay, okay. That was a silly question,” she said, picking up her own brushpen. “Now, I once had a very wise instructor tell me that the first thing that must be correct is the grip. He said if you don’t get the grip right, you’ll never be able to master the rest.”

Renarin flushed slightly as she quoted his words back to him, but didn’t interrupt her.

“Even though he was talking about swords,” she continued, “and I’m talking about pens, he was absolutely correct. Once you can hold a pen correctly, everything else builds off of that. If you hold the pen like this, between your first fingers, and rest the weight of it against this fourth finger here, you will have more control over the motion as you write.”

He tried to copy her positioning, holding his hand out for her to see. “Like this?”

“Close, but not quite” she said. She put her pen down, helping him move his hand into the correct place. “There, like that. It may feel a bit strange at first, but after a while you won’t be able to pick up a pen any other way.”

She pulled over a new sheet of paper, drawing a guideline. “As for the writing itself, I find it’s easier to start with the down stroke of the letter and then add the details. That way you can make sure the letter’s height is correct, which you have to pay close attention to if you don’t want to get them mixed up. It also gives the strokes a kind of momentum, I think.” She demonstrated for him, writing his name slowly, emphasizing the stroke order for each letter. When she finished that, she drew another line beneath and wrote his name again, at her regular writing speed this time. “Once you get the rhythm down, the letters start to flow into one another, without needing too much thought.”

He shook his head slowly, setting his pen down on the table. “You make it seem so effortless. I have to concentrate on every single line, but you can just make them appear on the page like magic.”

“Well, it is effortless to me,” she said. “But, that’s only because I’ve been doing this for years and years. You’ve been writing for all of a week, on your own and without my help? And you have already figured out how to legibly spell your name! I know it seems overwhelming, and it’s going to take time, but you _will_ get there. That’s the way it is with all skills, whether they be reading and writing or memorizing sword stances. It takes practice and dedication, but eventually we reach the point where they simply come naturally.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Shallan,” he said sadly, pushing a hand through his hair before letting it fall back down to the table. “You _can_ master things. You’re an amazing artist and you can read and write faster than I can even comprehend. You’re even better at sword training than I ever was. I’ve never mastered anything in my life. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is staying out of everyone else’s way.”

He started to turn away again, but stopped as she laid her hand atop his on the table. “Renarin,” she said calmly. “Don’t ever say that. You have so many incredible skills! You’re one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I know. I don’t think I can name anyone who cares about other people the way you do. And you’re so clever, and curious about so many wonderful things! And the only reason I am retaining anything about sword fighting is because you’re so patient and calm with me while I’m learning. All credit for the progress I make goes to you in that endeavor. Renarin, I couldn’t ask for a better teacher… or a better friend.”

A small smile touched his lips, and he flushed at her words. He stayed silent for a while, seeming unsure how to respond. Finally he found his voice again, though it sounded even softer than before. “If it means anything, I couldn’t ask for a better friend or teacher either, Shallan. You’re… the most incredible person I’ve ever met. I still don’t know why someone like you would want to help someone like me, but I thank the Almighty that you do. I have no idea what I’d have done if you weren’t here.”

“I strongly suspect that you would have figured this all out on your own,” she said, trying not to blush at his wonderful compliment. “You try to learn the things I’m teaching you on your own time, simply because you want to. Jasnah once told me that pursuing scholarship in my free time for its own sake was the best argument I could make for my wardship. In that regard, you’re a truer scholar than I might ever hope to be, because you seek it in spite of the danger you might face if anyone found out! You could have mastered this without my help, I’m sure.”

“I think you overestimate me,” he said softly. He started to pull his hand out from under hers on the table, but she wrapped her fingers around his palm, stopping him. After a moment of stiffness, his fingers curled underneath his hand in response, enveloping hers in a warm embrace.

“Renarin,” she said, savoring the feeling of his hand holding hers. “The more time I spend with you, the more convinced I become that such a thing isn’t possible.”

 


End file.
